


I'm Not Asking

by Shenanigans



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Hipsters, M/M, feral scarf wearing deer boys, fuck lists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon is a punk rock god and Tim's pretty sure he's just the boy in the scarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Asking

Kon was everything Tim didn't need in his life. He was loud, reckless, carefree, and rabidly messy. He seemed to explode socks and clothes in every direction when he walked in the front door and managed to move both the couch and the coffee table when he slammed over the back to grin up at Tim where he was working on his laptop. He was large, bulky, tattooed and impossibly handsome. He grinned stupidly and Tim did not pay attention when he lifted a hand and batted at the large headphones Tim wore tucked under the hood of his jacket. "Did you leave the house?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"Timmy," Kon drawled, pushing his feet against the opposite arm and worming his head over Tim's thighs to get between his arms and his laptop. "Timmy, Tim, Timothy."

Tim sighed, closing his eyes and wet his lips, tongue flickering absently over the back of his piercing before he looked down and knuckled his glasses back up his nose. "Kon."

"Come out with me." The smile should be illegal. Tim should be used to it. He should be able to not swallow thickly at the sight and he should not have to shift his weight to slip out from under Kon's head, but Tim was only human after all.

"No."

Kon flopped onto his stomach, pushing up onto straight arms and narrowed his eyes at Tim. "Steph's coming." He waggled his eyebrows, widening his eyes as he touched the top of his tongue to the sharp point of his canine. Tim narrowed his eyes in return, palming his face and pushing him with a quick shove off the couch.

"You're incorrigible."

"I love when you use big words." Kon was fluid, rolling onto his knees to steal Tim's laptop and set it aside. He sat back on his heels, broad hot hands bleeding heat against the thin cotton over Tim's thighs as he gripped him. "Use another."

Tim choked slightly, jaw going tight as he tilted his head to level a glare at Kon where he was kneeling between his knees and folded his feet up under him, crosslegged. "Oaf," he managed, proud for a moment that it sounded harsh despite the way he was trying to control his heartbeat.

 

"That wasn't big," Kon groused, pouting spectacularly before leaning forward and just resting his forehead against Tim's breastbone with a sad faked sob.

Tim palmed the back of his head, patting in awkward consolation. "It was accurate."

Kon shifted, leaning back and pecking his cheek before smacking it with a broad flat palm and pointing at him. "You love me, don't lie."

Tim managed a sharp crooked grin. "You wish."

Kon nodded, pushing up to his feet and just grabbing Tim bodily to throw over his shoulder. "You're coming."

Tim went limp, letting his arms flop as Kon walked through the space. "Fine."

Kon crowed in delight and Tim let himself flush and enjoy the view.

-

Kon smelled like cigarettes and whiskey, but he was walking straight. Tim watched with the serious eyes of the drunk as Kon pulled the grate on the loft open with a rattle of metal. "I can do this," he told Kon, fingers tangled in the opposite seam of the sweat damp black t-shirt as he swung around to start wobbling towards his room.

Tim unwound the scarf, dropping it to the side and paused, staring down at his feet for a moment before huffing a low displeased sound and did a half twist with bent knees to land in a pile on the floor. Shoes are bad, he decided. Fuck shoes. He flopped onto his back. He cleared his throat, blinking owlish at the ceiling before pushing his glasses up and knuckling at his eyes. 

"You sure about that, Timmers?"

The apartment was open, cement floors and hastily hung drywall. There was a second hand rug tucked under the threadbare couch and the kitchen had been cobbled together from junkyard bits. He was especially proud of the lockers that doubled as their pantry. "I like the lockers."

Kon glanced up from where he was pulling his boots off inside the door and hooking out of his socks, left then right. He smirked, bright and quick as he watched Tim struggle on the floor like an ungainly kitten with tape on its paws. "Is that so? What else do you like, Mr Talkative Drunkerson?"

Tim closed his eyes, feeling the way the world seemed to tilt just slightly to the left and hummed. He lifted a hand straight up into the air, splaying his fingers wide before letting it thump onto his stomach. "I like the sound your keys make when you toss them in the bowl by the door. I like the sound of crackle hiss on an LP before the music starts. I like the way frothed milk for lattes starts out so quiet before wailing into a low rumble. I like the smell of bergamot."

Even barefoot, Kon made noise when he walked. He wore impossibly soft jeans, broken in and nearly threadbare through the thighs with that one perfect rip just below his back left pocket. Tim knew he was getting closer, could hear the way his feet slapped against the concrete until it paused just to his right. Tim pushed the toe of his left shoe against the heel of his right, letting the chuck taylor clatter off and struggled to find purchase on the other. "Those are oddly specific."

"Specificity is important in compliments," Tim told him, finally giving up and just hauling his foot over his thigh to tug his shoe off and throw somewhere. "I make lists when I'm tired."

"You make lists of your lists," Kon answered. Tim heard his knees crack when he hunkered down, touching the backs of his fingers to Tim's side.

"Lists are important for an ordered mind," Tim breathed, head rolling to blink up at Kon where he was squatting. "How are you going to know what's important to you if you don't know yourself?"

Kon smiled, bright and open in that way he had as he shrugged loosely. "What if what you like isn't on the list?" He held out a hand, eyebrows lifting.

"Then it's something that needs to be weighed and categorized, given a value in order to determine where it stands on things to do." Tim felt hot, skin loose over his bones, but the floor was cool and he closed his eyes again, grabbing for Kon's hand like an afterthought. "I don't want to miss anything, man. There's too many things that are important to lose track of it to momentary distractions."

The world spun, pulled off its axis. Tim gasped, grabbing for the closest solid object and held on. Kon had that effect on him. He was upright again, hauled to his feet with what must have been an easy tug. Kon's hair was spiked into salted cowlicks, face flushed under the golden tone. Tim wanted to feel it, that soft smooth texture just over the edge of his stubble. He wanted to put his fingers on the divot of his jaw and stroke over the fragile skin behind his ears. Instead he blinked again, looking around like he couldn't remember where he'd put his feet and turning his face back up at Kon. "You were on the floor."

"Oh." Tim uncurled his fingers from the grip they had on Kon's forearm. "Right." He could smell the spice of Kon's deodorant then, and the soft warm scent of his sweat. "That wasn't my better idea."

"I don't know, man," Kon grinned, dimple flickering with his smile and Tim swallowed the helpless little sound that tried to claw out of his throat. "It was totally worth it just to see you flop around for a minute." He paused and Tim had to tear his eyes away from the slick looking red of his mouth back to his eyes. "It's something I like. Watching you forget to be a stick in the mud. You were actually smiling and everything."

Tim felt his face crumble into hard thought, brows drawing together and mouth twisting to the side. "I smile."

Kon laughed, bright and loud, shaking his head before clapping both palms against Tim's face and using a calloused thumb to smear away the crease between his brows. Tim stilled completely, eyes wide. "You do. I like it."

Tim and Kon had been sharing a flat for almost six years. Tim had made list upon list of reasons why it was a terrible idea to have a crush on his roommate. He tallied and retallied the results. He added to them each night he could hear the bed in the adjoining room thump rhythmically. He added to it when he could hear the high cries that choked off around the darker thicker sounding growls that the wall muffled just enough to leave out words. He added to the list each time Kon walked out of his room naked to grab something from the fridge, Tim sitting tucked into the corner of the couch in frustration, taking refuge in the programming. He knew that frame. He knew the black lines that were tattooed on his skin. He knew what his hair looked like backlit from the light in the fridge. He knew what kind of careless smile Kon would toss him as he drank the OJ straight from the carton and waved a loose fingered hand in greeting before walking back into the dark of his room. Kon always closed the door behind him. That was on the list.

Tim didn't know what to do with his hands as he stared at Kon. He knew he was flushing, awkward and blotchy. He damned his fair skin at the way his ears would go pink and his cheeks hot under Kon's palms. Kon just glowed. He'd duck into a pile of bodies, alive and brilliant as he moved. He'd heft girls up and pass them like they weighed nothing. He come crashing through the crowd to where Tim was leaning against the wall, tucked into a shadow that kept him faceless, unapproachable, and hidden. Kon didn't care about that shit and would just pant next to him, shirt sticking and slick with sweat, arms glossy and face that graceful sort of flushed that curled his hair slightly at the temple and simply made him smell like spice, promise, and dark hot kisses that left scorch marks.

"Kon?"

The living room was dark with orange squares drawn on the wall by the streetlamp outside. The street traffic was loud here and the disharmonic wail of the trains was a constant melody. Tim was sure Kon could hear his heartbeat. It thumped, stuttering in his fingertips, at the base of his neck, and the tip of his tongue. Kon hadn't moved his hands, just staring at him with those blue eyes, brighter and glossy in the dark. "I like it."

"You said that," Tim mumbled, reaching hesitantly to curl his fingers over Kon's wrists, one hand touching skin, the other fingers brushing the skin hot metal of the clasps on Kon's leather wristband.

"You hate the band that was playing tonight." Kon's face was oddly blank, narrowed in a focus Tim wasn't used to seeing outside of a rampage in a video game. "Why'd you come?"

"You asked."

"That's all it took?"

Tim wet his lips, breath catching at the way Kon's eyes darted to watch, heart tripping over itself once, skin alive with the awareness of how close they were. He felt like he could feel the molecules of space, feel the way they vibrated with purpose, given by the furious chaotic motion of electrons. He closed his eyes, breathing steadily through his nose before biting his bottom lip and mentally burning his list. "Yes."

"All I have to do is ask?" Kon asked, voice low and quiet like secrets between them. Tim knew he was shaking, just a low tremor that would only be visible if someone was close. If someone was touching him.

"Yes."

Kon was loud. He was messy. He drank the milk from the carton and left his dishes in the sink or scattered around him where he was sitting. He did laundry in one lump sum of random darks and denims when he'd run out of clean clothes instead of in smaller manageable bits. He smoked on the fire escape and fucked girls in the hallway. He moved liquid and rough in a way that would leave Tim breathless and squirming into his own fingers when it was too much. He had no concept of personal space. He had no life goals. He had no plans. He had no lists.

So what had taken Tim six years to really understand, Kon just leaned in and took. Tim wanted to be embarrassed by the sound he made when Kon slanted his mouth against his, but in the moment that needy growling yelp of surprise was the most honest answer he could have given.

It was electric, breathtaking, and melted heat through him like he'd been lit with a match. He had the impossible impression of rough struck friction that flickered and bloomed into light and energy, but then he was groaning and biting at Kon's mouth with those strong fingers tangling into his hair to tug his head back as Kon grabbed him. Tim had the impression of movement and was less surprised than turned on when his back hit the wall and Kon simply... pressed against him, slipping a knee between Tim's to stabilize them with one hard muscled thigh. "I'm not asking."

And in that moment Tim said the truest words he'd ever spoken. "I don't care."


End file.
